


Tongo Night

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short gen fic with Jadzia and Quark for tinsnip, as well as some Garashir to the side. I owe her another fic, though!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tongo Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tinsnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/gifts).



“I think I’m getting good at this game.” Julian says as he flicks a card forwards. He looks proud of himself, as he so often does. “Confront.” Quark clicks his tongue in an irritated fashion, throwing his cards down.

“Not as good as I am, Julian.” Jadzia says with a satisfied grin, and she shows Julian those in her hand. The doctor groans, hiding his face in his hands, and then he falls back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I am not playing any more.” Quark snorts.

“ _Doctor_ Bashir, you’re so  _boring_.” He complains, and Jadzia arches a graceful eyebrow.

“Quark, we can put the Tongo away for a little while.” Jadzia says, and she begins to pack away the cards. It’s just the three of them left in Quark’s after hours, now – it must be a little past 0200, she thinks, though she doesn’t bother glancing around for the time. “Be  _nice._ ”

“I am nice. I am a fatherly hand on the shoulder of  _all_  my patrons.” Julian puts his chin on his hand, looking at Quark in an unimpressed fashion.

“It’s so bizarre when you say things like that, Quark.” Julian says, and it comes with a sort of sleepy affection. He definitely  _is_  sleepy, for what Jadzia can see; his eyelids droop slightly, and he all but  _sprawls_  with his long limbs in the chair. She walks back to the bar to get another bottle for them to share, and carefully, surreptitiously, taps her comm badge.

“Jadzia to Garak’s shop.” She says quietly.

“Miss Dax?” comes Garak’s voice. Yes, she  _thought_  he’d still be awake at this time on a Tuesday night – this is Elim Garak to consider, after all.

“We’re in Quark’s, Garak, and it looks suspiciously to me like Julian is going to fall asleep in his chair.” There is a short pause.

“I don’t suppose you expect  _me_  to come and collect him?” Garak asks, the very representation of innocence. Jadzia smirks, leaning back against the bar as she uncorks the blue-glass bottle in her hands.

“I simply thought you’d be the most appropriate man for the job, on the station.”

“Why, I’ve no idea  _what_  you’re implying, my dear.”

“I’m not implying anything, Garak.” Jadzia says, copying his innocent, “I know nothing” tone. “I just mean with your Cardassian strength, and the fact that your quarters are so close together…” Julian’s quarters are on a completely different level of the habitat ring, but that is neither here nor there when you’re playing lies with an ex-spy. “Besides, you’re awake.”

“I’ll be there in just a moment.” Garak says, and Jadzia chuckles to herself as she taps her badge again, returning to the table. Julian tries to pull himself in his seat, and he rubs his eye so  _sweetly_  with the heel of his hand as he does his best to stifle a yawn.

Quark shakes his head at the doctor, obviously unimpressed (and somewhat amused) at his inability to stay awake.

“Quark, Miss Dax.” Garak says as he enters, and Jadzia beams at him as he moves forwards, putting one hand on his paramour’s shoulder and squeezing slightly. Julian sits up straight suddenly, his eyes widening almost comically as he looks up at Garak.

“Garak!” Julian says, and he stands up immediately, just  _slightly_  tipsy, but Garak catches his forearms and prevents him from stumbling.

“My dear, do you think it perhaps best to go to bed? Young things like you need their beauty sleep, I should think, and such  _important_  rest ought not be undertaken curled in bar chairs.” Julian’s cheeks darken slightly out of- no, not embarrassment. He’s not embarrassed…

Jadzia holds back her amused smirk as she looks at Julian’s back in one of the mirrors on the wall behind him; Garak’s right hand is drawing small, carefully calculated circles in the centre of his back between his shoulders, and judging by the way Julian nods his head, that sort of touch is as good as an  _invitation._

“Good night, Garak.” Jadzia says, and Garak meets her gaze with a sardonic smile. She wonders how much she’ll pay for executing that particular encounter – perhaps he’ll make her uniform trousers too short.

“You are a cruel woman.” Quark says, tone heavy with admiration, and she laughs.

“What? All I did was make sure Julian got home okay.”

“To  _Garak’s_  home.”

“What, so it’s four nights out of a week instead of three.” Jadzia shrugs. “Is it a crime to push those two together?”

“In the view of the Cardassian high command? Yeah, probably.” Quark says in a light tone, and he holds out his glass for Jadzia to pour him a little more. Oh, she  _does_  like Quark – even by Ferengi standards, Quark is a terrific man.

“Here’s to getting assassinated by the Cardassian high command, then!” Jadzia says brightly, and she lifts up her glass.

“You’re paying for this, you know.” Quark says before knocking his back.

“I know.” She says, and drinks her own. “That was a given.”


End file.
